Nngh. Today hasn't been the best, and it's barely 12:50. Stupid parties and junk. Eight's not really sure what a party even is - movies make them out to be, like, loud and flashy and full of substances of various legalities, but how do you even plan that? And, you know, why would you want that? It just seems like a lot, in her opinion.
But what does Eight know, right? And on a much more unrelated thought, what even is the legal drinking age in Inkopolis, anyways? Back in the Domes, she thinks it was twenty-five or so, but Pearl has wine in the kitchen that she uses to cook with, and Pearl's only twenty-one...
Speaking of, Pearl kinda ran off the moment they got home. Probably something to do with the party, because she'd been a little antsy ever since Eight mentioned it. She's not really sure why, still, since it was pretty apparent they forgot about her and it's fine, honestly! Eight doesn't really remember what a party is, so it's not like she really misses it, and... Judging by the movies, she's not missing much.
... Well, okay, it still kind of stings. Sure, Pearl and Marina have been busy, yes, but-
Her phone rings.
{Hello?} she answers, not bothering to check the caller.
{Eight, hey!} Oh, it's Marina. Speak of the devilfish, maybe? {Yeah, um... Three and Four are here.}
{Oh, are they?} Eight checks the time - it's not even 12:55 yet. They're early, she guesses, and... Well, Eight's not the readiest. {You said Four's taking me out, right?}
{Mhm, and we're keeping Three here.} Eight nods. {Come down whenever you're ready, okay?}
{Um... Marina? What do I... Wear?} she asks. As it stands, she isn't really dressed to meet them. Or, um, she isn't very dressed in the first place. To be honest, Eight's only wearing a pair of shorts since she threw Three's hoodie in the wash. {It's not a formal outing, right?}
{Oh, Eight...} Despite not being able to see her, Eight pictures Marina shaking her head as she sighs. {It's not, don't worry. Just, y'know, be clothed, 'kay? See you soon!} Without another word, Marina hangs up.
Eight sighs. She loves her and all, but wow, she's awful at clarifying things. Pearl talks... A bit much when she's on the phone. Marina talks too little and it sucks!
Well... Whatever! Eight will just. Wear clothes, or something. Yeah. Take that. ... Even though Three probably wouldn't mind if she walked down like this. Once Three walked in on Eight changing and she turned such a lovely shade of marigold and only spoke in awkward stammers for the next, um... Hour. But, well, she just feels it's probably not appropriate to just walk out with a pair of shorts on. And... Eight's going out with Four today, right? Four probably would appreciate Eight wearing clothes. ... Then again, maybe not.
With a small sigh, Eight gets up and starts digging through her dresser to find... Something. Anything. She settles on a tank top because it almost goes with her shorts and she doesn't feel like changing out of them. And... Y'know, boots have never betrayed Eight. Sneakers - or tennis shoes, if you're Three - make her feet feel... Naked. Is that the right thing to say? Maybe not. Sandals are dumb. There's nothing like a nice pair of boots, after all. Just a nice, good pair of clunky boots. Clomp clomp and such.
She quickly checks that her belongings are in her bag before throwing it over her shoulder and leaving the room.
Eight walks down the stairs at a brisk pace, which Pearl probably doesn't like because she yells at her to slow down. {Sorry!} she yells back, not especially sorry at all.
Sure enough, Marina, Three, and Four are all downstairs, waiting. Four waves at her and Three grimaces.
"Oh, there you are," Marina says. "... You're wearing that?"
"... Yes," Eight responds slowly. "Why?"
"It's a little cold out, that's all. Do you have a jacket or something?"
Eight shakes her head. "No, it's in the wash."
"Eight, are you telling me you didn't think of buying any jackets at all while we were shopping?" Marina furrows her brow. Ugh. Marina can be such a Nurser when she wants to be. At least Pearl's, like, casual about it.
"I'm sorry no one thought to explain seasons to me," Eight snaps. "You know Dome temperatures are regulated..." She glances over at Three and Four. Four looks a little amused while Three is some mix of angry and flabbergasted. It's kind of funny, she must admit.
"Are you shitting me?" Three growls. "I'm literally- My fucking name is a season, you didn't think to fucking explain that?"
"... Um, Three?" Eight asks quietly. She looks over. "What... What is your name?"
"You never fucking told he-"
"Shit!" Three swears, cutting Four off. "Yeah, it's, uh. It's Summer."
"Wait. That was you?" A week or so ago, Eight stopped by Oceanside Café, hoping to find Three there. And, well, she wasn't - or, Eight thought she wasn't - but the barista there was, um... Quite, uh... Touchy-feely? Is that even the way to describe it? Maybe not. Maybe just flirty, or something like that. She was also familiar in a way Eight couldn't place. She also wrote Do you want to go out for dinner tonight? - Summ3r on it and oh, what the fuck, she wrote- She wrote Summ3r on it. Fucking. Eight thought she wrote the 'E' backwards or something, but- Dear Gods. Three also seemed very amused when Eight told her about it later that day, but... "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Eight, I couldn't have made it more fucking obvious! I- Literally the only things I changed were my ink color and putting my tentacles up in a bun. That's- That's fucking it." She rolls her eyes, struggling to fight the grin off her face. "You... I was literally wearing the same thing as the time we made out on my couch."
"Which time?"
"The first one!"
Four and Marina share a glance.
"Are... Are you hearing this?" Four mumbles.
Marina sighs. "Yeah."
Eight sighs dramatically and glares at Summer, who's grinning in a manner that can only be described as shit-eating. "You're such a jerk."
"Why am I a jerk? It's not my fault you can't recognize my face." She shifts, checking something on her phone before shoving it back into her pocket. "Seriously, you're always talking about how pretty my eyes are and then you can't recognize me with a different hairstyle."
"... I mean, I thought it was you until you spoke." Eight rubs at her arm. "Your voice was too lively, so..."
Four laughs loudly. "Fuck, really? That's- That's so on-brand, I- Holy shit..."
Three's face flushes as a ripple of green spreads from the tips of her tentacles. "I- Fuck you."
"Maybe later," Eight replies without thinking about it. Three sputters wildly. "Um, so... Not to change the subject or anything, but what are we doing, exactly?"
"Well," Marina starts with a small sigh, reminding everyone of her presence, "You and Four are going... Out. Shopping for decorations and the like, I guess? I'm not too sure."
Four nods. "Yeah, yeah. It'll be fine. You guys are working on the everything else, right?"
"Mhm." Marina nods. "Do you know what time you should be back?"
"Eh." Four makes a so-so motion with her hand. Eight decides that it means none of this was actually planned. "Maybe 4:00, maybe 5:00? I'll call you when we're about to come back."
"Oh, alright! I think that should be enough time..." Marina types something on her phone before sliding it back into her pocket. Now that Eight thinks about it, everyone seems to have pockets. If only someone explained seasons to her, but she doesn't care why would she care, that's right, she doesn't, because she has never cared EVER BWAHAHAHA.
(Eight cares profusely.)
"Yeah, sure. We'll see you around." Four gives them a small wave.
"Don't fucking crash the car because you're too busy listening to Carly," Three grumbles. Who... Who is Carly? "And, uh, Eight. Have fun, I guess." A few muddy brown blotches form at the ends of her tentacles. Too bad Eight has no idea what they might mean. Three does look a little angrier than usual, so Eight opts to give her a farewell hug.
"I'll see you later, Summer," she coos into her ear. Three responds by briefly choking on air. Eight pulls away. "... Are you okay?"
"Y-Yeah, I'm fuckin'- Fucking peachy, thanks." She coughs twice into her hand and then makes an 'OK' sign. "I'll. Yeah. Have. Have fun."
Marina cocks an eyebrow. "Ummmm, right... Stay safe, please? Have fun, don't break the law." She grows more serious as she tells Eight the last part. {And... Please don't hurt anyone, okay? Promise me that.}
Eight fights the urge to roll her eyes. {Yes, Marina, I promise I won't kill or seriously injure anyone. You... You know I haven't in a while.}
She sighs. {I... Yes, okay, but...} Marina shakes her head. "Just- Please be careful."
"Right." Eight turns to a very visibly confused Four. "So... Are we going?"
"I, uh- Yeah. We'll... See you around, I guess?" Four starts heading to the door. Eight follows her. "Bye..!"
Three and Marina call one last goodbye at them before they leave.
"So, uh..." Four fishes for her keys in her bag. "... What was that about?"
"It's stupid," Eight mumbles. "She's just worried about stupid things. I don't think she understands that..." She sighs, digging her claws into the palm of her hand. "Don't worry about it, okay?" Eight tries her best to smile convincingly at Four. She's sure it doesn't reach her eyes, but Four buys (or pretends to) it at the very least. "If you don't mind me asking... Who is Carly?"
Four pauses and furrows her brow as she unlocks her car. "... Oh! Oh, Carly Mantaray. She's a music artist that Three hates since she 'is just another overproduced garbage pop sensation' or whatever." She rolls her eyes as she gets in. "I don't think she can listen to anything that isn't classic rock or metal."
"... Why would that make you crash the car?"
"I... Get enthusiastic." Four clears her throat. "Anyways, you wanna hit up Arowana or The Reef first?"
"Hit..?" Preferably, Eight would enjoy hitting neither with a car. "... I'm sorry?"
"Oh, uh... Which would you rather go to first, I mean." Oh. Ohhhh. Okay. That makes sense.
"Whichever one is closest, I guess?" Four nods absentmindedly and puts the keys in the ignition. The moment she does, some pop song starts blasting and Eight shrieks.
"Shit! Shit, sorry, sorry, are- Are you okay?" She turns it down until it's barely audible. Eight gives her a look that's part fury, part malice, part "what the hell" and gives her a thumbs-up. "Sorry, sorry..."
"Why," Eight says after a ten-second pause, "Are you playing music so loud?"
"... I'm gay?" she offers. Eight gives her a thumbs-down. "Yeah, I... I can't argue with that."
She takes a deep breath. "Which one is closest?" she asks instead of punching her.
"The Reef, I think." Four finally starts driving. Eight turns to look out the window.
Warm ink, underneath my skin,
Warm ink, my hearts are pumping,
Warm ink, underneath my skin,
Warm ink, my hearts are pumping...
It doesn't surprise Eight that they got lost. The only surprise is how long it takes them to get there. (Which, for those wondering, is twenty-three minutes and forty-two seconds, but hey, who's counting?) The Reef itself happened to only be a whopping five minutes away, but at least Eight now knows all the lyrics to Warm Ink.
"So..." Four's voice trails off as she looks up a map of the shops. "We're close to Party Atlantis right now. All the stores are open till 5:30, so we have time."
Eight nods, looking around. The last time she was at The Reef was, um... A while ago. A pretty long while ago. (That is, if you count the actual location. The replicas used for turfing in Deca Tower were frequented by her, if frequented meant 'she went there two weeks ago because she didn't feel like being left alone at the house.') "What kind of things do they sell there?"
"Like... Party decorations and stuff. That's probably not super helpful, but that's, like, the only way I can describe it." Party decorations and stuff. Wow, Eight wouldn't have ever guessed. "Oh, and since Splatoween is soon, there's costumes and stuff for sale. They're pretty cheap, though."
"... Splatoween?" Eight's heard the term tossed around a bit, but she never actually bothered to look into it. "What is that?"
"Originally, I think it was a tradition to keep the Elder Gods away, or something? Now it's a holiday that's roughly two days long. You dress up and parade around town, and you can get candy and stuff. That, or you could be a bitch and trick people." She shrugs. "I'm not super religious, so..."
"The Elder Gods?" she repeats. "In the Domes, our religion was centered around them. Are they, like, bad here?"
"... Well, I don't really think I'm the person to ask, but..." Four thinks for a moment. "They're not necessarily bad. I don't really know what they stand for, though. In Atramentos, the religion's mainly centered around Tatzelwurm, Akkorokamui, and Banaspati. They're, like, the big three, I guess."
"... The Elder Gods were centered around the arts, I think. We mainly worshipped Cthulhu. He was the god of music and literature. Or, no, that... That was the Ravine, I think..?" Eight pauses to think. "... It's hard to remember."
"That's... Interesting. We think of him as a chaos god up here, if I remember correctly." She sighs. "Now that I think about it, it's probably due to racism from the Great Turf War." Yeah. That makes sense. They approach the Party Atlantis. The sign is in a happy, rounded font, although it flickers slightly. It also looks pretty packed. "So. We're here!"
Eight gently grabs Four's hand. "Crowds," she mumbles, and Four nods. "Sorry."
"It's cool. I understand." After grabbing a basket, Four leads her through the sea of people. How could a store even fit so many? Maybe they picked a bad time to do this... Eight thinks she sees a few Splatoween decorations. One is a skeleton of some kind of fish. The other is the most anatomically incorrect inkling she's ever seen, mostly because it's... A skeleton. Inklings (all cephalopods, actually) kind of have exactly zero bones, let alone enough to make a skeleton out of. Some child squeals and asks its caretaker to buy it. She tells it no, and it starts wailing. Four and Eight start walking a little faster.
Turning the corner, Four briskly walks down the aisle and stops at the very back of the store. It's a little less crowded here, although the child is still sobbing.
"Welcome to the sad party decoration section! Take your pick," Four announces while striking a dumb pose. Eight blinks, then looks at Four, and then over at the wall of stuff, and then back at Four.
"I don't know what any of this is," Eight deadpans. Four's face flushes.
"Ah. Shit. Right, uh." Clearing her throat, she picks up a pack of something... Rubber. "These are balloons. You can blow them up with air and knock 'em around a bit, but then they pop and they're not very useful after that." She puts them back. "I wanna get the helium ones."
"Helium..? I don't understand, what's the difference?" Balloons are balloons, aren't they? Or- No. This is the surface. So... Of course not. They're probably like blasters, as in there are fifteen hundred million of them and each and every single of them suck. That, or they're like... Eight doesn't know, most shooters? As in... Utterly redundant and unnecessary? Ah, but... Blasters are shooters, right? ... Whatever.
"Helium ones float. Ones with air in them just kinda... Sit there." Oh. Oh! That makes sense. That makes them exactly not like blasters or shooters at all, because there is a clearly defined better one. "Also, if you suck the helium out of them, your voice gets high-pitched and funny. Don't worry, you can't get high off it." She chuckles darkly. "I've tried."
"... What?" One: Is helium safe..? Two: What does 'getting high' even mean, and why would Four try it? "I- What?"
"Did Off the Moms not explain that to you, either?" Eight shakes her head 'no.' "Damn. What are they even teaching you..?" She clears her throat. "Well... Maybe it's better that you don't know."
"Is it... Bad..?"
"Again, I don't think I'm the person to ask, but..." Four pauses and looks Eight over. "... For you, probably. Can't really say."
"Oh, is it sort of like being drunk?" she asks. Four's eyes briefly widen and then she nods. "... Cool. I don't think I'm old enough to drink."
"... Aren't you nineteen?" Eight nods. "Yeah, no, you're old enough. What was the age down there?"
"Twenty-five." Four whistles lowly. "That was also the average life expectancy, but... No correlation, right?"
"Goddamn..." Four puts the balloons back on the shelf. "Well, uh... Here." She snatches a bag of... Cones? "These are party hats."
"That's a traffic cone, Four. Don't lie to me." Four shakes the package a little. "It doesn't matter how much you shake them, they're still traffic cones."
Four looks over her shoulder briefly before tearing the package open. She pulls a cone out. It seems... Cheap. Just a sad roll of paper with a little tinsel at the top and an elastic string at the bottom. "Come here." She sets the rest of them in the basket they grabbed before holding the cone with both hands. Eight gingerly steps forward. At this proximity, Eight gets a better look at Four's face than she probably has... Ever. And, well, she's... Attractive, maybe. Probably not her type, but... Pretty. In a... Familiar way..? Four fumbles with the cone as she tries to put it on Eight, who isn't exactly helping her... But she's not not helping, either! Her eyes trail lower down Four's face, and they stop at her lips. "... Four?"
"Yeah?" she replies "What's up?"
Eight taps at her lower lip, claw poking at the small indent in it. "What's that scar from?"
Four's face turns dark sea-green immediately as she steps back and trips on the basket, landing on her ass. "There isn't a scar there," she responds quickly, covering it with her hand. "No scar. You're seeing things."
Eight looks down at her, sprawled out on the dirty floor of the Party Atlantis. Gingerly, she holds out a hand to help her up. Four shakily grabs it. "... Sorry," Eight mumbles. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."
"I, um- No, it's, it's fine, I guess, I just, y'know, we all have dumb scars, yeah?, well, uh, this one, isn't dumb, it, I got punched. By Three. Yeah. Mhm," she stammers, dusting herself off. "ANYWAYS, why don't we look for more shit?"
Eight taps the cone on her head. "... Is this not enough?"
"We need streamers, Eight." She rolls her eyes. Scanning the shelf, she grabs a pack of... Something. "These babies."
"... Babies..? I thought they were streamers."
"Yeah, they are. It's- Language is dumb." Eight nods. Four can be smart when she wants to be. "I dunno if we'll actually use them, but we should get some just in case. What color is your favourite?"
"Uh..." Eight doesn't really have a favourite. It used to be everything except Kamabo green, but Four's ink is already pretty close to it in hue, so she's started liking it a bit more. Theoretically, blue is the warmest ink, but that movie sucked. It sucked so bad. Eight got a little over halfway through, then Pearl walked in during a sex scene, which Eight apparently wasn't supposed to be watching straight-faced and fully clothed. "What... What are you watching there..?" she asked. "A movie," Eight replied. "It's boring. Do you need me for anything?" So Pearl asked her to help with dinner and Eight would have preferred to do anything that wasn't watching the remaining hour and a half of Blue is the Warmest Ink, so she followed her downstairs and that was that. That being said... Eight doesn't hate blue, either. She just hates that specific movie. "I don't have a preference."
"Rainbow, then?" Eight nods. Four carelessly tosses it into the basket. "Cool beans."
"... What else do we need?" Eight asks, looking over at the Wall of Party Stuff. The Wall of Party Stuff is actually colorfully bland, if that makes any sense. Another child starts crying in the background. Fun. "Should we get some Splatoween things?"
"Mmh... Maybe? I don't know, are you going to celebrate?"
"I might. I don't know." They start walking down another aisle. The walls are continually stocked with colorful (albeit forgettable) items. Eight reads some of the packages as they walk by. Werewolf Mask, Vampire Fangs, Mummy Costume (Ages 6+)... "What are all of these?"
"Oh, those are Splatoween costumes. Kids dress up in them and then they go candy collecting. I mean, it's not entirely for kids, but... Those are."
"They... Sell adult Splatoween costumes as well?" The entire tradition seemed a tad... Childish, in Eight's humble opinion. "Why..?"
"Er- You know how there's that cultural obsession with making literally everything sexy, right?" Eight pauses then nods. "Yeah. They have it all... Last year I found some sexy Squid Sisters costumes. Now that I actually know them, maybe I should bribe Three into wearing one with me." She grins at Eight. "I'd make a wonderful ass-out Callie, right?"
What does that mean.
"What does that mean?" Eight asks. Four sighs dramatically (although in a fundamentally different way than Three) and shakes her head.
"You'll see," she replies. "You'll see."
Needless to say, Eight is terrified.
By the end of their shopping excursion, they had a basket filled with Stuff. And the Stuff was important because Four said it was. Four also pulled up a picture of the sexy Squid Sisters costumes and Eight absolutely lost it at the thought of Three wearing the Marie one. On the way to the checkout line, Eight snagged an anatomically incorrect inkling skeleton. It was awful and sad and Eight loved it.
Speaking of awful and sad things, that crying child from before never actually stopped. Eight awkwardly steps around its crying form on the ground.
"Four?" Eight asks quietly, squeezing her hand gently to get her attention. "Are all children, um... Like that?"
She thinks for a moment. "... In a way, I guess so. In others, probably not. I know I was. My brother, though? Not so much."
"You have a brother?" Four nods. "How old is he?"
"Same age as me. We're identical twins."
"Oh, twins? I didn't know those were a thing."
She nods again. "Yeah, we came from the same egg and everything. It's just him, though. Guess our parents couldn't handle another gremlin. He was the jock, and I was the gay kid." Eight snorts. "What, it's true! He's really nice, though, even if he thinks baseball is a respectable sport. He'd stick up for me when people gave me shit. I should give him a call soon..."
"Why would they?"
Four shrugs. "I'm trans and people suck." Well, that makes sense. Eight thinks she vaguely remembers Marina mentioning Four being trans and how she admired her for being open about it. She asked her why she couldn't just be open about it too, and Marina sighed and said that it was complicated. "Still! I don't get any now, or... Y'know, not as much, and my face is on a t-shirt, so who's the real loser here?" She laughs and smiles at Eight. Eight can tell it's fake. "Um... Yeah. So..."
"... Why didn't you tell me your face is on a shirt?" Four pauses and then starts laughing. "I'd totally wear it!"
"It was a promo thing. We were in the top 10 for popularity for a bit, but..." She sighs. "Everyone just kinda... Stopped caring. Like, my team, I mean. Neuros, Spear, both kinda stopped giving a shit. I've been meaning to look for new teammates, actually..." Four clears her throat. "Do you remember your family at all, Eight?"
Eight pauses to think. She doesn't remember much at all, really. The only memories she has from before Kamabo are small bits and pieces from the small bits and pieces that fell off the mem cakes. As it stands, all eighty of them are sitting on a shelf in her room, waiting to be eaten. "... Vaguely. I remember... Tiny things." Nothing big, nothing important. Just blips of knowledge and things like that. Things like the scent of weapon polish or the dry taste of a nutrition block, or the glowing lights that lined the walls. Things like moonlight shining down through the distant crack in the surface in Octo Ravine, things like the distant Inkling cheers that'd echo down some nights. Crickets chirping, children laughing - all so far away, all so nothing like the stone-cold clockwork routine they had in training. "... It isn't a lot to talk about."
"Mh." Four grimaces as they finally get to the point in the line where they can pay for their Stuff. "I'm sorry, Eight."
"It's fine," she tells her. "I don't miss it. I have a family here, right?"
"Yeah, you do." Four goes quiet before suddenly reaching for her phone. "Oh! Speaking of, I gotta text them..." While Four does that, Eight takes the stuff out of the basket and puts it on the... Conveyor belt? Is that really what that thing is called..?
"Hey, how are you today?" the cashier asks. They look tired.
"I'm okay, how are you?" Eight replies, fishing for her wallet in her bag. Four stops typing briefly to tap Eight's wrist.
"It's fine, Eight, I'll pay for it."
"You don't have to-"
"It's stupid for you to have to pay for your own party, isn't it?" she asks, and Eight can't really argue with that. She decides right then and there she's going to find a way to repay Four for that. "Oh, uh, do you have a preferred cake?"
Eight shakes her head 'no.' "Soft," she replies, and Four smile a little, rolling her eyes. "Uh... Vanilla, I guess?" Four nods and then types something.
"Frosting?"
"One that isn't a condiment." Four gives her a look that can only be described as pity. "... I don't know. Something that goes with vanilla?"
She types something else, then shoves it into her bag and pulls out her wallet.
"3765 C," the cashier drones. "You have 234 C in savings."
What..? But you're still spending things, so... No money is actually being saved, right..?
Four slides her card in. "How do I run this as a credit?"
"Green circle."
"Okay, thanks." After doing the thing (presumably), Four pulls her card out and slips it back into her wallet in a very graceful manner. Eight usually had to fumble with hers whenever she did, but... Whatever. Grabbing the bags of Stuff, she nods at Eight. "C'mon."
Eight grabs the bag with the anatomically incorrect inkling skeleton in it and half-jogs, half-walks after Four.
Seriously... How does she even walk that fast?
Once Eight catches up to her, she gets an idea. And it's a wonderful idea, because it's Eight's idea. Well, okay, maybe it's not that great, but...
"Four?" She looks over. "Stay still." Eight sets her bag down and finds the party hat cone thingies. She pulls one out and steps closer to Four. She fumbles with it as she puts it on, and it's a little lopsided at first, but ultimately Eight gets it to look okay. "Tada! Now we match!"
Eight swears she catches Four blush slightly, but it could just be the lighting. She smiles, laughing slightly. "That's so stupid," she mumbles. "I love it."
Eight beams at her, grabbing her free hand after picking up the bag. "So... Where to next?"
"Eh..." Four pauses. "I don't know, actually. We could go to Arowana, but I don't know if we really need a whole lot there." Hm... "I kinda promised to keep you out until 4:00, right..? Uh... Wanna just, like, dick around? We kinda... Did all the shopping we needed."
"I... Sorry if this is weird, but... Can you tell me about your brother?" Eight asks as they walk further into The Reef.
Four's face lights up. "Yeah, sure! Uh, anything in particular, or..?"
"I don't think so?"
"Okay, okay... So, there was this one time in middle school, like, right after midterms, and..."